


The Presentations

by WardenCommanderCousland



Series: The Light in the Shadow [10]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenCommanderCousland/pseuds/WardenCommanderCousland
Summary: Several months after the events of Trespasser, the Inquisitor and Commander Cullen travel to meet with the Divine, the Viscount of Kirkwall, and the elf-held city of Wycome





	The Presentations

Adair Lavellan shifted, attempting to more securely cradle the babe in her arms. “I really don’t think I’m getting the hang of this,” she said in a frustrated tone. Her sister-in-law, Mia, propped another pillow behind her left shoulder. 

“It’s only been three days, love,” she said soothingly, reaching out to smooth Adair’s hair. Then, Mia sighed and turned to look over her shoulder, saying harshly, “This is no place for a man, right now.”

Cullen scowled from his post in the doorway. “She’s my daughter too. And it’s not like I haven’t seen my wife naked before.”

“Leave.” Mia ordered. “The Inquisitor is trying to feed your child.” Satisfied at her brother’s departure, she turned back to Adair and muttered, “Not that Cullen’s Home for Wayward Templars is any place for children anyway.”

Adair attempted to cross her body with the stump, the scarred mess that Solas had left her with. But it couldn’t reach her tiny daughter’s feet, let alone the rest of her. “This is our home, Mia.”

“You had a castle! With staff. You could have had a dozen wet nurses.” Mia clicked her tongue but set an arm beneath Adair’s anyway. “Instead you have Rylen shepherding around a dozen raving former Templars and no help whatsoever in your condition.”

Adair let out a sigh as she finally felt the newborn latch at her breast. “Skyhold belonged to the Inquisition. I disbanded it eight months ago, at the Divine’s request.” Or at least she was telling herself it was Cassandra’s request, and not the result of insurmountable pressure from Ferelden, Orlais, and the Qunari. “We can use Caer Oswin to suit our needs.”

“It was gracious of Divine Victoria to grant you these lands,” Mia agreed cautiously. “But --”

“This is what we want, Mia,” Adair said with a tone of finality. She sighed. They’d had this argument several times in the month leading up to the birth. Adair adored her sister-in-law, but was starting to wish she would just leave.

After a few quiet moments, the babe pulled away, full and sleepy. Mia took her from Adair and rocked her, waiting for the inevitable spit-up, while Adair fumbled with her shirt. It was growing easier as her body shrunk again, but her missing forearm still vexed her. 

“May I enter my own bedchamber now?” Cullen was at the door again. Mia rolled her eyes and waved him in. He climbed onto the bed next to Adair, ignoring Mia’s protest about the state of his boots and the sheets, and kissed his wife on the forehead. “Rylen rode down from the main house. We have guests.”

“Did he say who?” Adair asked, her gaze following her husband as he rose again. It had been a boon, convincing Rylen to join them in the bannorn instead of returning to Starkhaven, but he’d been enthusiastic about Cullen’s mission. Now he was acting as a self-appointed seneschal for the Templar home and to Cullen and Adair.

Cullen shook his head and helped her out of the bed. “Just that they were former Inquisition, and they were here to see you, specifically. He wasn’t completely certain of who they were.”

Adair frowned. That could mean nearly anyone, since only a few members of her inner circle ever journeyed to the Western Approach with her. But still, she followed Cullen through their small home, Mia agreeing to stay with the infant, their mabari nipping at their heels as they entered the yard.

The grounds between their house and the manor were dotted with Templars in various stages of recovery from lyrium addiction. Those who were too far into their addiction to be saved, or too new to the cause, were confined to the manor house. As of the week before Adair gave birth, fifteen former Templars were in residence, most from Ferelden or Orlais. Despite his position, she counted Rylen among them, as he was still struggling with his own lyrium withdrawal.

All questions, save one, were erased from Adair’s mind as they approached the manor’s main hall, where she heard the echo of a familiar laugh. “What is Sera doing here?”

Cullen groaned. “Maker, I don’t have time to check all the furniture to see if it’s still level. Hopefully she’s simply tagging along.”

They entered the main hall and saw that Cullen’s hope was indeed the case. Sera was stretched out on Bann Loren’s abandoned throne, waving a turkey leg like a scepter. A handful of bewildered Templars looked on from a table along the wall. But it was clear who the real guest was: Dagna. The dwarf rose as they approached. “Inquisitor.”

“Not my title anymore,” Adair said, crossing her arm to cover the stump. 

Dagna nodded. “I know, but it feels weird to call you Countess Lavellan. It feels too fancy.”

Adair agreed. And she hadn’t formally accepted the title yet. That required a trip to Kirkwall, one Cullen wasn’t eager to make. But she knew they’d have to, sooner or later.

“But I wanted to bring you this, before you go to visit the Divine in Denerim.” Dagna held out a long, narrow package.

“Before I what?” Adair turned to Cullen. He reached his arm back to scratch the back of his head, a gesture she’d long since recognized indicated his nerves. 

After avoiding her gaze for a solid minute, he conceded. “Cassandra wrote us about a month ago. She’s making a grand tour of the capitals and Free Marches, not one she’s particularly excited about, mind you, and she was hoping we’d meet her in Denerim.”

“And you told Dagna about this, but not me?”

Cullen looked away again. “You were...in your condition…”

Dagna coughed. “He wanted to surprise you, Inquisitor. Commander Cullen, Sister Leliana and I started drawing this after the Exalted Council.” She began peeling away the tanned leather wrapping. “If you end up going after Solas, you’ll need both hands for your bow.”

She held the unwrapped parcel level with her head for Adair’s inspection. It was a mechanical arm, the kind of clockwork that only dwarves seemed capable of mastering. Cullen picked it up for Adair, turning it over in his hands. Faint blue veins glowed just beneath the surface. “Lyrium?” Adair asked. Both Dagna and Cullen nodded, though his was with an air of caution.

“Not the kind they use for mages and Templars,” Dagna said quickly, taking the arm back. “This is more like how I was able to masterwork the Inquisition’s weapons and armor. I tested a few prototypes with some of our former soldiers whose limbs couldn’t be saved. They were all eager to help you, Inquisitor.”

“So this isn’t just a normal prosthetic?” Adair asked, knowing the answer. She’d been mulling it over for a few months, as her frustration with the stump increased. But Cullen put her off, telling her to keep trying, or at least wait until the baby was born. 

Dagna set the arm back on the table and gestured for Adair to loosen her tied sleeve. She deftly undid the knot, one skill she had managed to develop in the last eight months, and pushed the fabric up to reveal the stump. Solas’s magic had made a clean removal just above her elbow, but the anchor’s angry flares had burned the skin all the way up her left arm, leaving a topography of red and pink scars that stretched nearly to her shoulder. While Adair and Solas rarely saw eye to eye, she was grateful that he felt her death would have been unnecessary. He was right that she’d never thank him, though. “Banal’abelas,” she muttered.

Dagna raised the arm to Adair’s stump and talked Cullen through the process of fitting the straps. She blushed as she intimated that it might be easier to fit if Adair wasn’t wearing a shirt, which prompted an echoing snort from Sera. 

Despite being a contraption of metal, leather and lyrium, the arm felt warm. While foreign and clearly separate, as Cullen tightened the strap that sleeved the stump, Adair felt as though something was flowing through the arm into her body. It was her arm and yet, it wasn’t. She raised her arm to get a closer look at it and gasped when the fingers bent in turn. 

“It will take some getting used to, but it will respond to your thoughts,” Dagna said shyly. She was clearly proud of her work but was avoiding Adair and Cullen’s gazes. “It was a bit harder to make than most, but I sang to the lyrium about you. I think it understands.”

“You...sang to it?”

“Yup!” Dagna raised her eyes again. “People who are sensitive to lyrium can hear it singing. After what you told me about the titan, I thought maybe we could sing back to it. I think it understands us. Do you like it, Inquisitor?”

Adair turned her arm back and forth a few times, stretching the fingers and clenching into a fist. Finally, she turned to clasp Cullen’s hand in her own. “I do, Dagna. Thank you.”


End file.
